Ignoring the “Oops, I did it again” sleep and all, the massage was awesome. I’m still in a frustrated headspace, though. This weekend, some game-planning’s goin’ down.

See, like the ever-smart pragmatist I try to be, I realized the year-end was upon us and I’ve begun trying to make all my leftover medical benefits vanish by way of use, rather than time running out on me.

I took this shot near my home yesterday. Had a 4km pre-breakfast sunrise walk. Beats the shit out of walking to a bus stop on a busy thoroughfare, like I’d be doing back in the city in the morning.

Thus begins the 10-week intensive Heal Thy Steff regimen. Oh, and I’m signing up for yoga at the end of the month, and I’ve just joined the gym. I’ll continue with my avid walking/cycling life as well, with my last bus ride having been in July.

It’s about to become a very anti-social, very focused, and very broke end-of-year for me, but with, I hope, fantastic results. I’m imagining myself starting 2013 in the best mind/body place I’ve been in for a few years. But I’m under no illusions that this will be an easy time of life management or physicality. Time to get my game on.

Last year, when I did something similar, I spent my funds completely differently — on experimental stuff on the other side of town, after which I’d get home tired, often soaked, and frustrated. This time, I’m doing more traditional treatments I know have worked for me before, and I don’t need to spend 70 hours a month on the bus to make it happen. Instead, everything’s within 2.5 kilometres of me.

I’m switching chiropractors, which is the one big risk. The guy I’m with has worked with many Olympians and is incredible, but he also causes a lot of pain. I’m in constant inflammation, and I’m just wondering if someone else who uses the same techniques can be a little more forgiving with my body. The worst thing is, his time management sucks. Out of about 15 appointments, only 3 times have I gotten in with less than 15 minutes’ waiting, and at least 5 times I have waited 45 minutes. I know I’m not some big fancy rich person or anything, but my time’s valuable to me, too.

And given I’m cycling 30 minutes/9km each way to his appointment, that’s adding up to about 2 hours of my time, not to mention the half-hour I have to stretch after all the cycling’s done, or that I usually justify this time/effort spent as a reason to order bad food on my way home. Add to that the money I’ve spent on the session, and suddenly it’s a black hole of time and expense, and usually ends up making me bitchy.

So, Olympians or no, I’m moving on to someone closer, whose bio sounds like he has a similar life/wellness perspective as what I’m hoping to attain.

Any way you slice it, this plan I have in mind will take tremendous discipline, a lot of work, a lot of money, and a lot of patience. It’s a huge commitment, and one I’ve not been ready to make before now. In 3 weeks, I’ll be meeting with a prominent physiotherapist who’s got an amazing background, and I will be getting a program started with him.

It also means I put writing on the back burner once again.

My recent birthday, and getting my new driver’s license, has opened this realization that I’ve been on this five-year journey through a lot of levels of pain, and I’m fucking tired, man. It needs to end. If it means I throw EVERYTHING at this, for one amazing 10-week period, and see where it gets me, then so be it.

Five years ago, I got my driver’s license photo back and this massively fat face was peering back at me. I’d just quit a job that had sent me spiralling towards depression because my employer was a toxic, negative hag who had high turnover with good reason, and went back to a job I’d always enjoyed (and am still at). I chose to do something about that depression by way of exercise and eating better, and adopted a lot of good habits, worked crazy hard, and lost 85 pounds in the next year (but gained 10 back immediately, and maintained a 75-lb loss for the next 2+ years) before blowing my back 4 years ago this month.

The last four years have been a repetitive story of rehab and fall-backs, including me regaining weight (it was 25 lbs when I left Vancouver, spiked to 35lbs after, and now is at 28lbs regained, so…).

All this culminated in this year’s decision that the city was killing me and I needed a slower pace of life that would be kinder to my body.

So, I sit here now, typing in my pajamas before a day of working from home, which is some 7 or so blocks from one of North America’s best urban ocean stretches, where I find my soul and refill it often.

I have come a long, long ways in the last seven months since my move.

It’s why I’m ready to make the commitment now, despite the fact that the fat, long-injured girl deep inside me is scared as hell about what it’s gonna feel like to go hard and face all the things that emotionally come with rehabbing your body after injury.

I suspect I’ll get bored of being in all the same neighbourhoods by the end of this year, since I’ll be in a 3-5km radius for much of the winter months, until Victoria is bike-friendly and pretty and warm for cycling again, but at least I’m close enough to never have an excuse to not cycle to appointments, since it would amusingly take about 3 times as long to bus as it would to cycle.

I’m scared and excited, but either way, time to go to the next level of Steff v2.0: The Victoria Model.

For me, one of the most passionate things I can do for a man is a massage, and if he does it right, likewise.

I take massages very, very seriously. A great massage takes you to a different place. Paying for a massage is one thing, but receiving one from a lover fills me with raw desire while setting me on a wave of bliss.

I’ve been known to deliberately give male friends shitty massages. In fact, I generally try to avoid touching them at all. Keeps shit simple. I’d be in a world of trouble if they knew the truth about me. Seems a little late for that now, though.

I love giving hour-long full-body massages. I love to trade them like favours. It’s a delightfully erotic evening in.

For a woman, I have strong hands. They’re broader across the palm, and my fingers are pretty solid. I can apply a lot of pressure, and the nice thing is, my hands and fingers are perfectly shaped for massage. They’re not sharp and bony, and digging into tissue isn’t invasive.

But you can always adjust your technique if you don’t have the “right” hands. The trick is, when you’re massaging with fingers, to make sure the portion coming in contact is that part under the crease, over your top joint nearest your finger tip. This allows you to use the rounded-yet-flat surface to keep your lover most relaxed.

I need to ask you all a question. Is it just me, or is there a point where fingernails get too long? I don’t let mine grow past my fingertip. Long enough to trace over skin, but short enough not to gouge. Lord knows a man better manicure before he starts giving me an external, nevermind internal. Those little jutting bits on nails can cause an awful lot of pain.

I digress. The heel of the palm is the best part of your hand when it comes to massage. Lord, is it ever. And the outer ridge of your thumb, as it extends down towards your wrist. This works the best when you’re squeezing ligaments and muscles on the shoulder tops and neck area, as well as the arms, legs, and the always-yummy ass.

It’s a shame my skills are going to waste, really. I have so much to contribute to mankind. What a sin.

Anyhow, for you, my friends, in anticipation of next weekend’s hijinks, some recipes for massage oils as included in InterCourses: An Aphrodisiacs Cookbook, one of my most prized cookbooks. From Terrace Books, published in 1997. (You think my photography array on here’s yummy? Check out that book. Makes you want seconds.)

But if you haven’t the time to cook up a love potion, I highly recommend “Love Butter” by Auracacia. (The link takes you to a site selling it cheaper than I’ve seen it before.)

It’s solid cocoa butter scented with the essence of ylang-ylang oil, whose properties are that of an aphrodisiac. It’s worked like a charm for me. Definitely a recipient of the Steff Seal of Success. When you put it on skin, it melts, literally like butter in your hand. Not unlike the massage recipient when he/she experiences it. Just enough slippage, just enough friction, the perfect combination for a sensual massage.

(as written in the book:)
mixing your own massage is a simple process to follow: simply mix 6 to 8 parts of essential oil for every 1/8th cup (25 ml or 1 fl. oz) of base oil. essential oils are available at health food and natural food stores. vegetable oils work nicely as the base — try almond, avocado, olive, sunflower, hazelnut, or jojoba. mix with your signature concoction of essential oils. store in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.*

*steff’s tip? store it in the fridge. buy yourself one of those little electric plug-in cup warmers for hot beverages at work, and put it bedside. when you’re wanting to heat things up with your lover of choice, fill a small bowl with the oil before the massage, and place it on the warmer. hot oil, hot massage, hot night.

the above recipes from InterCourses by way of the Aromatherapy Catalogue.

Email Subscription

Don't miss a post! Get emailed.

Search for:

About Steff

This is my interstellar craft of truth and wit. Buckle up. If you want celebrity gossip, this is not the blog for you. If you want comfortable postings that’ll fill you with happy fuzzy thoughts about the world at large, or self-help guru shit, this is not the blog for you.Read more

Support Steff!

I hate ads, but I like money.If you like my content,feel free to show it through PayPal.